


what the hell is the catch?

by shinealightonme



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Humor, Love Triangles, Lynch Sibling Rivalry, M/M, Overthinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 12:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19295758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightonme/pseuds/shinealightonme
Summary: Adam never expected to date Declan Lynch. He certainly never expected that it would go well, but somehow it is -- or it would be if Ronan would stop interfering.





	what the hell is the catch?

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [waves_and_salt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waves_and_salt/pseuds/waves_and_salt) in the [declanadamfest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/declanadamfest) collection. 



> This is not even the Declan/Adam story I meant to write, I just saw this prompt and loved it too much. Oops?
> 
> Thanks to all the fabulous weirdos on tumblr who supported my dream for deeply awkward Dadam content. Because of you [the Declan/Adam prompt fest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/declanadamfest) is open in perpetuity for anyone who wants to prompt, claim, or post Declan/Adam fic at any time from now until we all meet whatever rightful end is waiting for us.

Adam has gone to great lengths to shed his Henrietta accent. Some people can't help sliding back into their natural cadence when they talk to someone from their childhood, but Adam's never had that problem.

He might be suffering from something worse, though, some law of nature that says once you've been a teenage dumbass with someone, then no matter how mature and intelligent and responsible you become, you will always be a teenage dumbass around them. It's the only explanation for what happens that afternoon in Gansey's loft apartment.

"Ugh." He collapses backward from where he's been watching over Ronan's shoulder and drapes himself along the couch. "No one in this entire town is single."

In the six months since he's moved, he's had zero luck at dating, or really at socialization of any kind. If it weren't for the fact that Gansey and Ronan lived here, Adam wouldn't have any life outside of work.

He hadn't been sure he would even have that much, had been afraid they wouldn't get along anymore, that they'd only ever gotten along at Aglionby out of necessity. But they'd picked up right where they left off, falling back into their old patterns after years of disuse, Gansey as the ring leader and Ronan and Adam as mad clown and sad clown, respectively.

This is how the circus opens tonight: Adam is ostensibly searching Tinder for anyone who isn't interested in polyamory or weed, but is actually just watching Ronan swipe left on everyone while mocking them. The end result is the same, and at least this way he's entertained.

"It's Tinder," Ronan says, swiping left on a fishing photo -- and seriously, why does everyone on Tinder _fish_ , is that a metaphor for something? Oh God, are fish a metaphor for sex? Adam hates Tinder so much. "What do you expect?"

"It's an imperfect tool, but since little old lady matchmakers are thin on the ground these days, it's what I have to work with."

As though to prove that he is, in fact, a little old lady, Gansey perks up. "You know who's single? Declan."

"...and?" Adam prompts, when Gansey fails to offer anything else.

"Didn't you have a thing for him in school?"

"I -- no -- what -- " He scrambles to processes that this isn't, in fact, some kind of god-level non sequitur. "You want me to go out with Declan?"

Ronan transfers his scowl from Adam's Tinder account to Gansey. "He's not into guys."

"Don't you ever talk to your brother?" Gansey asks.

"No."

"I can't believe I knew your brother was bi before you did."

"I believe it," Adam says, and then his face heats up. "That you knew first, I mean. Not that Declan is -- "

And now Ronan is scowling at _him._ "Fuck, you are hot for my brother."

He's going to say _no_ , really. He never thought about Declan like that. Sure, he was around when they were in school, handsome and refined and most of all _out of reach._ He wasn't something to be touched with dirty hands, just something to be admired and aspired to, and okay when Adam puts it like that it's pretty clear that he did have a thing for him, which is mortifying to realize years after the fact, even more so because it had been bad enough that _Gansey_ could tell. Gansey is not cursed with an abundance of emotional intelligence. For one thing he's still managed to miss the mark -- maybe Adam did have a crush on Declan, but the whole point of having a teenage crush on an unattainable Adonis is that you never have to confront the possibility of _actually dating them._

But that's a lot of mess and uncertainty and emotion to process while Ronan is glaring at him.

"Sure," Adam says, "he's like you but with taste."

"I could give him your number," Gansey offers.

"What happened to bros before hos?" Ronan demands.

"Who's the bro in this situation," Adam asks, "Gansey or me or your actual brother?"

"Declan is the ho, obviously."

Gansey looks pained. "Can we not use that word?"

"Declan is the ho," Ronan says, " _clearly._ "

Adam laughs, and misses his chance to tell Gansey not to go through with it.

Oh, well. How bad could it be?

-

The restaurant Declan chooses is fancy in a good old boys' club kind of way, dark panel walls and leather upholstery and a maitre d' who calls him _sir._ Maybe it's more past life regression, but Adam feels like he's only pretending to belong, like he had back at school. Maybe it's the sight of Declan that makes him feel that way, waiting at the bar and looking like something out of a Fitzgerald novel.

There's a second of panic where he _knows_ that Declan is going to take one look at him and change his mind. It isn't that Adam doesn't look good, he knows he looks good, but does he really look good enough for Declan Lynch? That isn't something a person can _achieve_ , they have to just have it already, effortlessly; anyone who has worried they don't look good enough has proven that they don't.

And then Declan spots him and smiles, perfectly charming and polite, and there's nothing for Adam to do except walk the rest of the way over to the bar.

"Adam, hi."

Adam doesn't think Declan had ever called him anything but _Parrish._

"Declan." Adam, of course, has always called him _Declan_ , because Ronan was already _Lynch_ , another bit of buffoonery -- the brother he knew was the one he denied familiarity.

An elegantly dressed host shows them to an out-of-the-way little table and has hardly finished telling them their server will be with them before said server materializes to take their drink orders. Declan orders a cabernet sauvignon without looking at the menu. Adam picks a wine more or less at random.

And then the server leaves and it's -- Adam, in a fancy restaurant, on a date with someone he hasn't seen since he was a teenager, who had been a focus point for his snarled issues around class and power and desire.

Why the hell did he listen to Gansey, again?

"So this is a little awkward," Declan says.

At least he won't have to spend the entire meal pretending that none of this is weird. "What, you don't go on blind dates with your little brother's friends all the time?"

"This would be a first." His deadpan is flawless. Adam respects it, and is surprised by it. It hadn't occurred to him that Declan would have a sense of humor. "Gansey's hard to say no to."

"I'm aware," Adam says, equally dry. "You would not believe the things that he's talked me into over the years."

"I have some idea," and he nods slightly, conceding the point. "We're all either very lucky or very unlucky that he never uses his skills for anything important."

"Are you saying that medieval history and model trains aren't important?"

The server has just appeared with their drinks. Declan's hand stops halfway to his glass. "He hasn't progressed so far into affected old age that he has _model trains_ , has he?"

"Not yet," Adam admits, "but I'm expecting them any day now."

Declan smiles a tiny bit. It occurs to Adam that he feels -- okay. Fine, even. That he might have a good time. That hadn't struck him as a possibility before now.

And then a third chair drops at their table with a thud, and Ronan takes a seat.

Adam is too startled to speak.

Ronan thunks his elbows on the table, grabs a roll out of the bread basket, takes a bite out of it, and with his mouth full asks Adam "has he told you he has chlamydia?"

"Ronan." That's a more familiar Declan, no deadpan, no charm, just a tightly wound warning.

"What? Clear and open communication is the only thing that's gonna combat the stigma against STDs," Ronan says. "I know how much you love being clear and open."

"We can talk later."

"I don't have shit to say to you." Ronan turns his back on Declan.

Adam's face is burning. Ronan hadn't kept his voice down, and he's wearing a shirt with the arms torn off and jeans that used to be black. People are staring.

Adam asks, "did you follow me here?"

"He takes all his dates here, he's got a _formula_ for this shit. I bet you feel real special."

The maitre d' appears and hovers over the table, across from Ronan, like they're on a very odd double date.

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" The question is directed at Declan, and it's phrased politely enough, but he's very obviously watching Ronan.

"Our friend was just leaving," Declan says pointedly.

Ronan gives the maitre d' a look that says he's not leaving and he doesn't see what any wimpy old guy can do to make him, and then he looks at Adam -- who can't make eye contact with him, and just stares at the table, turning red.

"Your bread sucks," Ronan tells the maitre d', and walks out.

Declan stands up and talks to the maitre d' in low important tones that Adam can't quite pick up. At one point Declan shakes his hand. Adam has a horrible suspicion that money just changed hands, and he can't see how that was even possible except of course Declan would know how to inconspicuously tip the help.

The maitre d' leaves and the rest of the restaurant goes back to minding their own business.

"Sorry for the interruption." Declan sits back down. His voice is carefully controlled, but he takes a large sip from his wine glass.

"I guess that isn't part of the formula."

"Oh, for -- " Declan sets his glass down. He bites back whatever the next word was going to be and breathes in deeply. "I like this restaurant. I like being somewhere familiar for stressful situations, it's not some evil scheme."

Adam blinks. Ronan's interruption had been unexpected, but humiliation was familiar enough whatever shape it took. This is more surprising. "I wouldn't have thought that you found this stressful."

"Everyone hates first dates, they're the worst."

Adam traces the stem of his wineglass with one fingertip. "You always seemed like you were above that sort of thing." _I always wished I was above that sort of thing._

"Well, that's something," Declan says. "Appearance is the next best thing to achievement."

Adam smiles. He doesn't say it, but he likes this revelation that Declan is human after all.

"Gansey said you went into environmental engineering?" It's somewhere between a question and a statement. Adam, unclear how he's supposed to respond, nods. "How did you get into that?"

It's a more interesting question than _so what do you do_ , although that means that Adam doesn't have a canned response ready. "When I moved into my first apartment I bought a plant, to liven the place up. And then I just ended up -- filling the place with plants. It was easier than decorating."

"Something you have to water every day and it still dies is _easy_?"

"If you're watering your plants every day, I think I've figured out why they keep dying."

"They don't die anymore," Declan says. "I switched to fake plants ages ago."

Adam tamps down on his grin. It would be ludicrous to gloat that he's better than Declan at something. "That led me to getting involved with an ecological group in college, and then I liked it a lot more than what I was actually studying. Things just grew from there."

"Like a weed?"

Adam blinks, trying to process. He thinks at first that he must have misunderstood. It can't possibly -- did Declan just make a _bad_ joke? "That was _terrible._ "

Declan shrugs. "I spend all day cross-checking fine print, my standards for 'boring' are off."

It starts to feel like a normal date after that; there's more that Adam doesn't know about Declan than he does, and Declan is either interested in environmental regulation or fakes it really well, so the conversation moves along easily.

Adam mentions Ronan at one point, offhand. Almost calls him _my friend Ronan_ like he would with someone who's never met him, except he looks across the table at just the wrong moment, at the suddenly familiar set of Declan's shoulders, and he remembers who he's talking to. It would only call more attention to it if he changed the subject, and compared to Ronan crashing their date, it isn't much of an intrusion. He finishes his story and they move on, and if Declan thinks anything was weird about Adam talking about a person they both know, he doesn't show it.

The check arrives, and Adam offers to pay half. Declan looks perplexed by the offer. Embarrassment washes over him.

"Of course I'm paying," Declan says, with no hint of pity. "I picked the restaurant."

"So if I pick the next restaurant you'll let me pay?" and Adam realizes that he just asked Declan on a second date.

"Yes," and Adam realizes that he just asked Declan on a second date and _he said yes_.

Adam is buzzing when he gets in his car, an anxious sort of happiness he doesn't trust. He can't believe that went well -- unless of course it didn't, and he's making an idiot out of himself. When they were in school Ronan always made Declan out to be some kind of player, just trying to get in a girl's pants as fast as possible and move on to the next one. Adam's not sure if the fact that Declan didn't try to take him home says something about him or something about Declan. Or possibly it says something about Ronan, although Adam hopes not. He can't think about Ronan when he's trying to get laid.

-

Adam hangs out at Gansey's place the next day, because he loves his friends, and because when he doesn't go over to Gansey's place he tends to spend Friday nights alone in his room, wishing his roommate would turn down the volume on his television.

Gansey, of course, takes his presence as an invitation for a postmortem.

"How did it go last night? With Declan," Gansey asks from the table, where he's fiddling with a ship in a bottle. Those model trains are just around the corner.

Adam considers telling him about Ronan's stunt, but Gansey's ability to influence Ronan's behavior has always had limits. And Ronan is just in the next room, getting a drink from the fridge. There's no reason to reward him when he only did it for attention.

He considers telling Gansey about those uncomfortable first moments, silence and anxiety and Jay Gatsby, but it feels like saying that Gansey had done something wrong by setting them up. He doesn't know that that's true, and he doesn't know that he wants to say it to Gansey even if it is true.

He considers telling Gansey about how quickly the time went, and how Declan has a sense of humor after all, and how he'd caught himself smiling as he drove home, but that's only going to make him look like an idiot when this goes nowhere.

He says "fine," and then Ronan, thank God, crashes into the conversation like the eternal distraction that he is.

-

Adam is terrible at texting, but it turns out Declan isn't a _let's chat about our days_ kind of texter, either. They figure out a day and time for dinner, and then Adam gets to stress about _where_ they'll go, because he opened his stupid mouth about picking a restaurant. He can't afford the check at Declan's kind of establishment, but he can't stand how pathetic it would be to go somewhere too cheap. In a moment of weakness he asks Gansey for advice.

Gansey gives him the name of a hyper local hipster place, fancy enough to take reservations and more expensive than Adam would _like_ but not more than he can afford. It's trendy, which is probably a virtue, and at a glance he sees a lot of little two-person tables, a lot of couples that look like dates. Gansey might actually have come through for him.

"Oh, you're friend is already here," the hostess says when he gives her his name, "this way," and he follows without correcting _friend_ to _date._

Except it turns out she was right, because the Lynch that's seated at the table isn't Declan.

Adam sees the error of his ways. Yelp wouldn't have snitched.

He sits at the table rather than make the hostess' job any harder, and once she's out of earshot he asks "do I need to be worried about whatever you did to Declan?"

"I didn't do anything to him," Ronan says. "It's pretty fucked up that I got here first. He's only late when he's trying to make a point."

"You're wasting your material," and Ronan frowns like he doesn't understand. "I know you're only doing this to piss him off, I'm not going to help you by telling him what you said. If you're going to badmouth him you should wait until he gets here."

"Hey, I'm deep," Ronan says. "Maybe I have lots of reasons for the shit I do."

"All right," Adam agrees. "I concede you might be trying to scare me off your brother out of some philosophical objection to anyone enjoying his company."

"Sure, that's me. Philosophical."

A waitress comes over to take their drink order. Ronan starts to say something, and then he looks at Adam. "Are you splitting the check?"

"No, I'm paying."

Ronan's face scrunches up in disgust. "Why?"

"I don't know, Emily Post or something."

"That's stupid," Ronan says to Adam, and to the waitress, "just bring me gin."

"On the rocks?" she asks.

"Just in a glass, whatever."

"Neat, Ronan," Adam says. "It's called neat."

"Yeah, give me neat gin."

The waitress turns to Adam. She appears unfazed by the fact that his face is in his hands. "And for you?"

"Just water." Adam waits until she's gone for their drinks, and then waits until he's sure he won't laugh. "I take it Declan -- "

" -- hates gin, yeah. He got shitfaced on g&ts at a family wedding when he was sixteen and hit on a thirty-year-old bridesmaid."

Adam _doesn't_ want to smile. Really. That feels like a betrayal, and anyway he really shouldn't encourage Ronan's bad behavior. But talking shit about people they know is an important part of their friendship; in the early days it had been pretty much the sum total of their friendship.

He smiles a little bit, and wonders when his loyalties became divided.

"And I'm sure that this was _scandalous_ to you, since you never did anything stupid as a teenager."

"With that kind of role model, who can fucking blame me?"

"I can," Adam says. "Or did you forget, I was there the time you wrecked the suspension on your BMW trying to jump it on a homemade ramp?"

Ronan grins, proud of himself when he really shouldn't be, and then his eyes flick to something over Adam's shoulder and back -- fast, but Adam is looking right at him. It's hard to miss, especially when his smile changes into something sharp and mean. Adam liked it better before.

He turns around in his seat far enough to spot Declan. He doesn't like the expression on his face, either.

"You're welcome," Ronan tells Declan. Best defense is a good offense, and wasn't there something about the debate going to the person who speaks first? Or was it the person who goes last? Adam hadn't lasted very long as a poli sci major. And Ronan, of course, argued from instinct, not training. "I kept Adam company for you, since you were late."

"Your generosity has been noted," Declan says, voice flat. "You can go now."

"But I'm hungry," Ronan says. "This place looks good."

Adam says "really." Gansey had specifically complained about having to eat here alone because Ronan refused to come with him.

"Sure, local food, free range, that means they hunt pigeons and shit, right?"

Jesus, none of them belong in this restaurant. Why did he let Gansey make a decision for him, again? But Declan is very obviously pissed off, so Adam doesn't laugh at the absurdity, and he doesn't pick an argument that would just draw things out.

"Ronan, we can continue our conversation about philosophy later. I'll bring you a doggy bag."

Ronan considers this -- he was expecting a fight, and without one to grab onto he apparently decides it's time to leave, after all.

Declan sits in the abandoned chair. "Sorry I'm late."

"I was a little worried he set something of yours on fire."

"Property damage _is_ more his style than slander. Do I want to know what he was saying about me before I got here?"

"Apparently you don't like gin," Adam says, just as the the waitress comes back with a glass. She puts it in front of Declan before she realizes he turned into someone else, but after a moment's confusion she decides this isn't her problem and moves on.

Declan stares at the glass in revulsion. "That's."

"Yeah."

He picks it up.

"You can send it back," Adam says.

Declan takes a sip and makes a face, but he doesn't put it down. "The other associates are amazed at how well I put up with the partners at my firm. The truth is anyone is a cakewalk after Ronan."

"He's the altitude training of people," Adam says, and Declan smirks. It's bitter, but still an improvement. "How bad could the partners at your firm be, really?"

"Oh, terrifying," Declan answers, easily, and launches into a harrowing tale of workplace rivalries and legal minutiae. It leaves Adam strangely adrift. This is the sort of life he thought he wanted, that he had spent years planning for, and then spent years more making peace with giving up on. Nothing that Declan is saying makes him second-guess those his decisions, but looking at someone who actually went and _did_ the thing Adam gave up on makes it feel oddly like he failed.

Adam picks up the check at the end of the meal, uncontested. Declan walks him to his car and then places a hand on his cheek. Adam has to turn his face up when Declan kisses him. He isn't used to kissing people who are taller than he is. He thinks he likes it.

-

"How are things with Declan?" Gansey asks, as though this is a casual thought that has just occurred to him and not something he's been dying to ask all day.

Adam considers answering, except the only thing he can think to say is _he kissed me._ He never even gossiped like that when he _was_ a stupid teenager. He's not going to do it now.

So he's wrestling with something, anything, less juvenile to say, when Ronan interrupts.

"That's still happening?"

He was _there._ He knows it's still happening. Unless he thinks that Adam is just that easy to dump, that Declan would have gotten so bored of him over the course of one dinner.

So he doesn't give Gansey a status update. He doesn't say _I'm so used to dates that go badly that I don't know what to do when one goes well._ He doesn't say how intimidating Declan is, still a portrait of success even with proof that he has stress and a sense of humor. Adam can't say _I'm worried I don't measure up_ if Ronan's already thinking the same thing.

So he says, "yeah, it turns out it's nice to go out with someone who has their shit figured out" and tries to forget that he had anything else to say.

-

Declan owns a car that he doesn't need, which is something that Adam would like to unlearn about him.

"It's easier to take the subway to work," Declan justifies as they turn down a little side street. No, not justifies. Brags. "But I like to take her out of the city on the weekends." Oh God, his car is a _her_ , of course she is.

The plan is to drive around and just soak up the scenery. It has that odd effect of throwing him back in time again: _let's go for a drive_ was a classic Henrietta teen date, although admittedly not one Adam ever went on.

He doesn't get to go on this date either, because Declan's Volvo has a flat tire.

Adam steps close enough to touch it, although he doesn't need to. The puncture is easily visible from a distance, an enormous slash through the sidewall. Declan doesn't say Ronan's name, so Adam doesn't either. He's a little disappointed with Ronan. Knife attacks lack the whimsy of character defamation.

"We'll just have to reschedule, then," Declan says, terse. "Do you mind?"

He doesn't mind rescheduling, but he finds that he's annoyed: at Ronan, for playing these immature games, but at Declan, too. For letting himself be dragged down to that level. For _announcing_ the new plan and only asking for Adam's input after.

And when he gets annoyed, he gets stubborn.

"Do you have a spare?"

Declan hesitates. There's something happening under the surface, and Adam can't make out what it is, but he knows that it's about _him_ and not about Ronan so he likes it already.

"There's no reason this has to ruin your evening."

"We just have to change it out, it won't take..." Adam trails off as he puts it together. "You've never changed a tire."

"I have." Declan is the opposite of convincing. "It was a long time ago."

"You've changed a tire _once_ , a long time ago." Adam shakes his head. "Do you have a jack?"

"I'm not hopeless." Declan opens his trunk. He does, at least, know where the jack is.

Adam grabs it before he can. "Rich boys." He's not sure it comes across as a put down; he's smiling.

In no time at all he has the car up and the tire off. He's getting the spare on when Declan says, "you're good at that" in a voice that is carefully neutral. He's pretending so hard that he isn't surprised. Adam cuts him some slack and doesn't point out how condescending that is.

"I worked in a mechanic's shop for two years."

"Right. I knew that."

"I'm not offended that you didn't remember," Adam says. "I wouldn't have expected you to."

"I really did know. I just hadn't contextualized it."

Adam lowers the car, wondering what kind of _context_ that fact requires -- and then he stands up and Declan is kissing him.

This is not like their first careful kiss. This is fast and deep, bodies pressed up together, mouths hot and hungry and wet. Adam drops the lug wrench, because this is not a kiss he can multitask. He grabs a fistful of Declan's shirt, and Declan groans. His hand slides around to the small of Adam's back, pulling him closer even while he's pushing him up against the Volvo.

A car honks.

Declan steps away from him and out of the road. The car passes. The driver was probably just annoyed they were blocking the street. It probably had nothing to do with their level of PDA. They were only kissing, that isn't scandalous.

Adam feels scandalous. They aren't touching anymore, but Declan is close to him in a way that makes him very aware that they _could_ be.

"You're not going to be able to patch that tire," Adam blurts out. A non sequitur, nonsensical, and it's thrilling and nerve-wracking how breathless he sounds.

"Guess I'll have to replace it." Declan does not sound breathless; he sounds in control, enough control to formulate a plan and sell it. "It won't be very scenic, but we can still take a drive."

Declan drives while Adam navigates to the nearest tire shop. The radio and the road sounds together are just too loud to allow for conversation. Adam leans back against the head rest. Declan is comfortable behind the wheel, glowing, even with the dregs of rush hour traffic and the hassle and expense and change of plans. Lynches and their cars, seriously.

They stop at a red light and Declan's hand drifts from the gearshift to rest over Adam's hand -- Adam's hand, which is dirty. There's road grime stuck under his nails and smeared across the pads of his fingers, and inch from where Declan is resting his fingertips. His mind comes back to the dirt over and over again, like he's poking at a missing tooth, unable to leave it alone.

 _Contextualize._ Exactly what had Declan put together? Had Adam just reminded him that he'd been the poor bruised kid in the threadbare sweater?

The light changes, and Declan's hand moves to the gearshift and then back to the wheel.

By the time the Volvo has a brand new tire it's too late to start anything new. Declan gives Adam a ride back to his neighborhood, pulls up to the loading zone outside his building. There's never any open parking, not in Adam's crowded neighborhood, where every apartment is split between two or three or four people because no one can afford the rent on their own.

Declan looks at Adam like he's about to say something, and all Adam can think is that he suddenly, desperately, does not want Declan to see where he lives.

"Let's do something again," he says, before Declan can get anything out, except now it sounds like he's just getting rid of him. "Soon."

"Yeah," Declan says, "I'd like that," and Adam's heart is racing even before Declan leans in to kiss him good night.

-

Ronan drops by, because invitations are for other people. Adam is used to that by now; Ronan used to do that back at Aglionby, too, after Adam moved out of the trailer. He never would have let Gansey in back then, but it was hard to feel too embarrassed in front of Ronan, who would roll up in the same clothes he'd been wearing for a week and then argue with Adam that what his tragic stunted kitchen-less attic apartment needed was shag carpeting and glow in the dark stars stuck on the ceiling.

So Adam hassles him, "sorry the place is a mess, I forgot I invited you," but he steps out of the doorway and lets him in.

"What, I can't visit my brother-in-law?"

"You're skipping several dozen steps there."

"It's been three dates," Ronan says. Gansey still has no concept of privacy; Adam feels a miserly vindication for not telling him any details about the third date besides the fact that it happened. "If you were going to break up over something stupid you would have done it already."

"It's been _three dates_ , that's not a relationship. That's not even enough time to figure out if we like each other."

"No," Ronan says. "It is. You don't need to figure out shit, you like each other or you don't, and if you didn't you wouldn't waste your time."

"If it's that easy where's your boyfriend?"

"I've never gone on a third date with a guy."

"What, really?" Adam frowns, momentarily distracted. Ronan dates, he knows Ronan dates. He's never actually seen if for himself, but he's heard the stories, and okay, given the caliber of guy Ronan picks out it's not such a mystery that he hasn't made it to _magical true love date number three._ "Fine, you're not a hypocrite, I'm very excited to meet whatever guy you marry a week after you meet him, but no one else operates on those standards. Three dates means _nothing._ There's still plenty of time for Declan to dump me over something stupid."

"Even Declan's not stupid enough to dump you."

"It's unnerving when you're a supportive friend," Adam says. "If this weren't just another manifestation of your sibling rivalry I'd be touched."

Ronan looks like he's thinking, behind that moody Lynch stare. Adam waits him out.

The moment breaks, and Ronan just rolls his eyes, "I'm sucking up to you so you'll take my side in family arguments," and as stupid as that is it makes Adam laugh.

-

On their fourth date Declan asks Adam if he wants to go to a museum. Adam agrees; he doesn't know how to say _no_ to the museum without it sounding like _no_ to everything. And he doesn't mind, it's just a puzzle. Declan doesn't strike him as a museum guy. He doesn't think he gives off museum-guy vibes either. Maybe Declan thinks that because Adam studied so much in school he'd be at home around neat little summaries on plaques. Or maybe it's part of the formula: four dates in, show off the intellectual side.

"Oh. This makes more sense now," Adam says, looking at the banner in front of the museum, announcing their new exhibit on vintage cars.

"Didn't I mention?" Declan asks.

"I don't think so, I might have missed it," Adam says, although he knows that he didn't. He and Declan don't text enough for him to miss something, which is how he prefers to conduct his relationships if he's allowed to. Generally people take his lack of enthusiasm for texting as disinterest in them.

"As long as we're here, we might as well. Unless you don't want to?"

It would be like snatching a toy away from a child. "Yes, we can go see the shiny cars," and Adam is surprised to hear the tone of his own voice, playfully patronizing. Declan is not the kind to be patronized, even as a joke, except he smiles at that, is still smiling when he hands a debit card to the cashier in the museum lobby, is smiling right up until the moment she hands the card back to him.

"I'm sorry, sir," she says, her bright customer service tone strained. "There's a problem with your card."

Declan's energy is immediately intense, uncomfortable to be near. "That's impossible."

"Maybe it got demagnetized?" she offers, a suggestion that they are all meant to understand is bullshit.

"Let me get it this time," Adam says.

"No, I offered, I'm going to get it. Run it again."

She looks flustered, but she does it, and Adam doesn't need to look at the machine to know it's rejected again. He knows from the embarrassed nauseous heat in his gut, from the wince that crosses the woman's face.

Declan takes his card back when she offers it and says something about calling his bank. Adam lingers at the counter as he walks away. He makes eye contact with the cashier and then looks away. He can't get any words out.

Declan is on his phone by the time Adam catches up to him, listening to something that puts an even darker look on his face.

"Fine, I'll hold." He turns his attention over to Adam. "There's been a mix up, this might take some time to sort out."

 _Mix up_ \-- another polite little fiction to hide behind.

"Did Ronan actually drain your bank account, or did he just get the card cancelled?"

Declan looks dark for another moment, but then the clouds break, for one second. "The bank cancelled the card an hour ago. It remains to be seen what the damage is." The clouds close over again, but the storm is taking a new shape; Adam finds he's not so worried about lightning strikes anymore. "I suppose it can't get any worse in the next hour."

"You don't really want to go look at old cars right now."

Declan doesn't reply, although the answer is obviously _no_.

"It's all right," Adam says. "You were more excited for this than I was, anyway."

Declan breathes out. "I'd be lousy company right now."

They're in the middle of the lobby, and Declan still has his storm cloud face on; Adam brushes a hand against Declan's, an awkward gesture, but the only one he can think to offer. "I'll let you sort it out. We can talk again later," and as he leaves, avoiding eye contact with the cashier, he thinks that he wouldn't mind being alone right now either.

-

Adam has plans with Ronan and Gansey that evening. He sends Gansey a text to cancel. He can't imagine looking Ronan in the face right now.

His phone starts ringing four and a half seconds later. Of course. If it's out of character for him to flake on plans at the last minute, it would be even more out of character for Gansey not to notice someone acting out of character and worry about them.

"Are you all right?"

"There's nothing wrong with _me._ " Adam opens his fridge and then shuts it viciously without really looking inside of it. "Lynches are all stubborn unreasonable bastards, but that's not _my_ problem."

"...I take it things aren't going well with Declan?"

"What?" Adam asks, distracted out of his anger. He really is hungry, maybe he just needs to eat something. He opens the fridge again. "They're fine. There isn't enough there to be going badly. It's Ronan that's pissing me off."

"Oh," Gansey starts, in that _I'm not trying to make you mad_ way that pushes all of Adam's buttons at once. "Just -- "

"Just what."

"You said _Lynches_ , plural."

Adam makes himself breathe instead of just spitting out the gut response, and when he's still annoyed he makes himself grab some leftovers and put them in the microwave.

"All right," he says, when the timer has ticked down fifteen seconds. "Declan's a stubborn bastard too, but given that he has Ronan to deal with I can't say that that's unreasonable."

"What's Ronan done this time?"

And suddenly he's too tired to talk about it. "Nothing. Nothing I shouldn't have expected, he always takes things too far. I know he likes pissing Declan off, I just wish he'd leave _me_ out of it."

"Have you talked to him about it?"

"What, talk to someone about a problem I have with them when I could just shit-talk them behind their back and maintain the illusion of composure?" The timer dings, and Adam burns his fingertips trying to remove his food. "Look, I'm sorry about bailing, I'm in a bad mood and I'd rather stay in."

He does think about texting Ronan after he hangs up, some residual Gansey impulse transmitted down the line. The afternoon's nausea wells back up again, and he can't swallow it down long enough to type anything. He opens his thread with Declan instead, the short thread where most of the messages back and forth are just making plans, _how about seven -- can we push it back to seven-thirty --_

It isn't the right place for an earnest inquiry about emotion. It isn't the right time. In Declan's shoes he wouldn't want to talk even if the matter had been resolved by now.

He puts his phone down.

He texts Declan the next day instead, an innocuous comment about his workload. He texts Gansey about his studies so that Gansey won't worry about him. He keeps both conversations going throughout the week, for all that he doesn't like texting. It's a busy week and he doesn't have the energy to make proper plans that would get him out to see anyone besides his colleagues or his roommates, anyone that he really wants to see.

He doesn't reach out to Ronan, and Ronan, out of reciprocity or laziness, doesn't reach out to him.

It's starting to look like he'd traded Ronan for Declan, without ever meaning to. When he spells out the choice like that, _being friends with Ronan or dating Declan,_ he'd pick Ronan, easily. But Ronan is the one who's forcing him to choose at all, and when he spells it out like that, he doesn't know what choice he can make.

-

Adam's first thought when Declan asks him over for dinner is _so that way Ronan can't interrupt?_

It doesn't occur to him that there would be any other reason Declan would want to be alone with him in private until he's actually _there_ , looking at the spotless glass coffee table on the spotless carpet in Declan's spotless apartment, and he goes _oh._

"Adam?" Declan pokes his head out of the kitchen, where something smells amazing.

"The door was unlocked," he says, still hovering in the doorway.

"I'm keeping an eye on the steaks, come on in?"

Adam steps inside, makes a snap judgment that this is a _shoes off_ kind of place. He leaves his shoes next to Declan's and then thinks about moving them further away. He goes to the kitchen instead.

Declan has his sleeves rolled up, a smudge of some unidentified spice on the back of one hand. He's 90% put together and 10% tousled, the distant idol putting himself within reach. It has to be a calculated decision; who wears long sleeves to cook in their own apartment?

Adam forces Ronan's snide voice out of his head. If Adam looked that good in a button up he'd dress that way too.

"I brought wine." Adam had called around to a couple of different stores before he found someone that carried the red Declan had ordered on their first date. The price tag made him wince, but he bought it anyway. He wasn't going to ask Gansey for more advice.

Declan takes the bottle when Adam offers it, leaning in while he's close to kiss Adam on the cheek. He grins at the label on the bottle and pours them each a glass in the time that it takes Adam to get his heartbeat back under control.

Declan looks like he's in a much better mood than last time. Adam doesn't want to jeopardize that by asking about it. He settles for "I didn't know you cook" just to have something to say.

"It's not so hard if you know what you're doing," Declan says, a very flimsy attempt at pretending he isn't proud of himself. He pounces on Adam's _is that so?_ as an opening to show off a sous vide and an Instant Pot and a half dozen other kitchen toys, at which point Adam is no longer surprised. He'd never thought of cooking as a way to telegraph wealth and excellence before, but clearly it is.

A timer goes off, and Declan, checking on the steaks during a crucial moment in their development, says, "that's the vegetables, can you get them?"

"Sure," Adam says. "Taking a thing out of an oven is right around my level of expertise."

"You don't cook?"

"I make good sandwiches. Completely edible."

Declan tilts his head at Adam before going back to the steaks. "You never wanted to learn." It isn't a question.

"I never really cared," Adam says. There was an awareness, maybe, of missing something, but -- compared to everything else, _home cooked meals_ ranked fairly low.

"I figured. If you wanted to be good at it you would be. You're too driven not to learn something that mattered to you."

Adam lets himself be silent for the length of time it takes to pull a tray out of the oven and find somewhere to set it down.

"It turns out you have to have priorities," he says eventually. "You can't actually master _everything._ "

Declan half-smiles at him, one corner of his mouth turning up. "It's a shame, isn't it?"

They plate the food and carry it into the dining room. He's relieved that no special measures have been taken here, candles or tablecloth or anything; the fact that Declan _has_ a dining room, or at least an alcove, is already too much.

"This is really good," Adam says after his first bite, with more surprise than he intended.

"Did you think I was bragging?"

"Oh, you were bragging, that's not up for debate," he says.

"But now you know it was deserved?"

"Maybe. Partially. Eighty percent, at least."

"Eighty percent." Declan shakes his head. "B-minus. You're hell on a guy's ego."

"Mocking raven boys is a hobby of mine," and he means to smile, but it turns slightly brittle. "And I'm not a very nice person."

"I won't argue with you if you say so, you would know better than I would." Declan tops up his glass. " _Nice_ is not the determining factor of a person's character, anyway." He gestures with the wine bottle, offering it to Adam.

"No thanks," Adam says. "I don't really drink much."

Declan nods and puts the bottle down. He isn't weird about it. He isn't going to make Adam argue with him or explain himself. Adam can just let it go at that, and the fact that he could makes him not want to.

He adds, "my father drinks."

It takes a second, and then Declan's shoulders tighten up toward his ears. "Shit. Forget I brought it up."

Adam snorts. "You didn't bring it up, I did." He taps his fingers on the table, fidgeting, and then he presses his palm flat down on the table. "It's honestly a relief that you know already," he says. "Because otherwise I'd just be waiting for you to ask about my family."

"God, how is that considered acceptable small talk?"

"No idea." It occurs to him that while he knows about Ronan's family tragedies, he's never thought of them as something that had happened to Declan, too. But of course they had. "What do you do when people ask? About your family."

"Lie," Declan answers, immediate and uncensored. "Or I just say I'm an oldest child and leave it at that. People are not generally surprised."

Adam snorts again, "yeah, no shit."

After dinner Adam offers to help with the dishes. Declan accepts, with an expression on his face like he's humoring him. Adam washes while Declan dries and puts things away. When they're done he comes up behind Adam, placing his hands on his sides and nosing at his hair.

Adam's breath stops.

"Do you want to watch a movie?"

That's another move, but Adam's glad for the pretense. Five dates in, he's suddenly confronted with the idea that Declan wants to have sex with him; it's hard to get a handle on. After worrying that he was moving too slow, now he's wondering if he isn't going slow enough.

"Yeah," Adam answers.

Declan scrolls through the Netflix recommendations. Adam picks the first movie that he's heard of, something that won a bunch of Oscars that he'd never gotten around to seeing, because when did he ever get around to anything?

When someone sits him down on a couch and makes him get around to it, apparently.

Declan sits next to him and puts an arm around his shoulders, which he is just barely tall enough to pull off. Adam decides to relax, leaning back against the couch, and a little bit against Declan.

He means to watch the movie, really, and he does watch it for a while, but it's boring. His attention keeps getting pulled away from the screen to the sound of Declan breathing, to the phantom sensation where Declan's fingers are almost touching his arm, to his own sprinting heartbeat.

Adam puts his hand on Declan's leg and brushes his thumb over his knee.

Declan noses at his hair again. Adam has a panicked moment where he tries to remember if he washed his hair that morning, and then Declan shifts, and his breath is warm in Adam's ear, and Adam shuts his eyes and stops thinking about anything.

Declan makes a low pleased _hmm_ sound. He presses his lips against Adam's ear, and then to corner of his jaw. Adam tilts his head with a sigh, and Declan takes the invitation to keep going, pressing a line of kisses down his neck. Adam shivers and grips Declan's knee.

Declan works his way back up Adam's neck before kissing him, thorough and deep. Adam gets lost in the kiss, floating in the warmth of Declan's hands on his back and the red wine lingering in his mouth and the moments where he can hear Declan breathing in, shaky with want. Adam can hardly believe that's for him, except then Declan will kiss him again like he means it.

After a while Declan puts a little pressure on him -- just a slight nudge, nothing Adam couldn't ignore. He follows it instead, lets Declan push him down onto the couch, move over him and press him into the cushions. His neck is cricked like this; he's going to need to shift to something more comfortable soon. Or maybe he _won't_ , if they aren't going to stay on the couch much longer.

A thought pops into Adam's head, entirely against his will. He pushes it down. 

It pops right back up and refuses to go anywhere.

In between kisses he says, "you don't really have chlamydia, right?"

Declan exhales, and this time there's no pleasure in the sound. "If I had an STD do you think I would tell Ronan?"

He moves to kiss Adam again, but Adam puts a hand to his chest and pushes him away an inch, frowning. "Okay, but would you tell me? Because that wasn't a no."

"I don't have chlamydia," Declan says, annoyed.

"Okay." Adam has felt flustered more or less since the moment he took his shoes off, but in the last minute it's become distinctly less pleasant. "I'm clean too."

Declan says, "that's good to know" like that wasn't the first thing he planned to say.

He's pulled away, and he doesn't move back in, so Adam figures he might as well sit back upright and save his neck. When he's settled back in Declan puts an arm around him again, lower slung, between his back and the couch. He doesn't try to kiss Adam again, just drops the occasional kiss on the top of his head or traces a line along his side with his thumb.

Adam can't help but blame himself for ruining the moment. The question was a reasonable one, but there were a hundred ways of phrasing it that wouldn't also have said _I was thinking about your brother while we were making out._

He doesn't know how to take it back now that he has said it, though, so he goes back to watching the movie, which is still boring and now also incomprehensible because he missed a huge chunk of plot in the middle. When it's over, there's an awkward moment of silence, and then he says he has an early morning. Declan doesn't push it.

-

Adam spends the next few days overthinking his texts with Declan.

Well, he'd been doing that already, but he outdoes himself on second-guessing. He knows he made things weird, but he doesn't know how to fix it, if Declan even wants to fix it, if Declan even cares, if he wouldn't just make it weirder assuming Declan is still hung up on it when he isn't. He plays it safe with outstandingly generic messages like _how was work_ , but it's not a long-term strategy. He's already bored.

Fortunately the end of the month comes around. The last day of the month is always hell at work. He stays late in the office a couple evenings in a row, too busy to worry about the scraps of a social life he's thrown together, and when Declan texts him on the morning of the 31st, Adam sends back a hurried _can't talk until one, if I live that long,_ and forgets what he said before he's even put the phone down.

He doesn't look up again until one-fifteen, when he enjoys his first moment of easy breathing all day and stretches for one glorious second, before the reception buzzes him and tells him he has a visitor.

He wanders up to the front of the office, baffled about what could have gone wrong _fifteen minutes_ after his deadline and who'd be here to talk to him about it, and then sees --

"Declan?"

"Parrish." It's a friendly greeting, in a cool sort of professional way. Adam decided Declan _is_ annoyed with him after all, until he realizes this is for his benefit. Declan is giving him the option to pretend in his workplace that this is a platonic social call, which is a gesture that Adam would appreciate more if Declan weren't _physically intruding on his workday._

"What are you doing here?"

"I had an errand nearby, I thought you might not have gotten a chance to eat lunch." He's holding a takeout bag, which neatly cuts out the part of the conversation where Adam can offer to pay for himself. Why not? He's cut out the part where Adam gets to make any other kind of decision.

Adam can't imagine anything more embarrassing then picking that argument in front of the receptionist, at least not until he thinks about taking Declan to eat in his office, which is a tiny windowless fluorescent-lit mess.

"There's a courtyard outside," he suggests.

"Lead the way," Declan says, irritatingly charming, and as they pass from the office into the lobby he says, "you survived one o'clock."

Adam looks over at him and comes to a dead halt.

Declan frowns and turns to see what caught his attention.

Adam has one irrational moment where he wants to jump in the way, stop the two of them from seeing each other, but it never would have worked. God forbid the Lynch brothers miss a chance to fight each other.

He takes some consolation from the fact that Ronan looks about as sucker-punched at seeing Declan as Adam feels to see him. It's not _much_ of a consolation, but Adam is used to getting by on not much. If he tries really hard it's almost enough drown out the little voice in his head saying _you had to pick TODAY to stop shutting me out?_

Declan recovers first.

"That's it, we're ending this." He steps forward and grabs Ronan by the arm.

Ronan tries unsuccessfully to pull his arm free. "I didn't come here to see you."

"Then you should have talked to me any of the dozen times I tried to get in touch." He looks over his shoulder at Adam, "sorry about this, I'll be back," and drags Ronan off.

Adam stays put, to start. That wasn't exactly a scene, but it was close, too close for the lobby of the building he works in, where the barista he buys coffee from every morning is watching him skeptically. He defuses that, walks up to the counter and smiles and doesn't explain anything, like there's nothing that needs an explanation. He orders a large ice water. You aren't supposed to physically intervene in a dog fight; as far as he's concerned neither Lynch is acting any better than a feral mutt.

They're out of sight by the time he exits the building, but he doesn't have to look hard. Declan has dragged Ronan down an alley around the side of the building, empty since there's no deliveries being made at the moment. It's discrete. Left on his own Ronan would have just stood in the middle of the lobby and said or did whatever the hell it was he was planning on saying or doing.

Although it's not Ronan who's ranting.

" -- never learned to share but you need to get the hell over yourself. I like Adam and I'm not going anywhere, so get used to it."

Adam stops dead, too far away to be noticed.

It doesn't make sense. His mind races, trying to make it make sense. Declan is supposed to be the _rational_ one. Declan is like him, Declan is too smart for this _it's been a couple of weeks and I already know where I stand_ nonsense. Declan of all people can't really be fighting in an alleyway over Adam. No, it's just -- it's Ronan, Declan and Ronan could fight over anything.

"I have something that's going well for me," Declan shouts, like he means it, "why can't you just let me have that?"

And Ronan shouts back "because I was in love with him first!"

" _What_?"

Declan and Ronan whirl around. They really are brothers. It's easy to get distracted by the trappings, clothing and hair and vocabulary, but they do look so much alike, especially when you put identical expressions of shock and panic on their faces.

"Adam -- " That's Declan's strained voice. Ronan is frozen, unnaturally still.

"Both of you," Adam says, "are _impossible_ ," and he leaves.

-

Adam makes a bet with himself about which Lynch is going to show up at his door first. Ronan is the favorite for the first hour. When he doesn't show up immediately, Adam has to wonder if he's ever going to see Ronan again.

Declan gives him a day to cool down, and then he knocks on the door to Adam's apartment holding a tiny potted bonsai tree.

"I hate to show up empty handed," he explains when Adam raises an eyebrow, "but you don't drink much and flowers would have been misleading."

Adam steps out of the doorway to let him in, but Declan only takes a few steps inside. "So you asked the florist for something stunted and high maintenance?

"Something expensive." It's overly honest, and that stings, because it turns out that Adam likes painfully honest Declan, but it can only mean one thing. "In my defense I was flying blind. There's not really a traditional break up gift."

"You're calling it, then."

"Despite what Ronan thinks, I don't actually want to hurt him."

"Nice of you to tell me that," Adam says. "You ought to say it to Ronan sometime."

Declan grimaces. "He thought I was dating you on purpose. He's not going to listen to anything I say."

Adam opens his mouth, _and how do you think matters got that bad_ , and then he shakes his head. "I never wanted to get involved in your family drama, you know that? Gansey was always trying to mediate and fix things, and I would get up and walk away from any conversation that even looked like it was heading that way."

"You screwed that up pretty good."

"Sorry for thinking you two might have grown up in the last decade," Adam snaps.

Declan squares up, ready to fight, and as Adam watches he just -- deflates, at the same time that it occurs to Adam how absurd the situation is. He smiles, not joyful but real, and sees the same look coming back at him from Declan.

"Yeah," Adam admits. "Yeah, I screwed up pretty good."

"This has been," Declan pauses to choose his words. "A surprise for all of us."

There's an awkward moment, and Adam thinks, _what the hell._ He takes the bonsai out of Declan's hands and kisses him on the cheek. "Goodbye, Declan."

"I think we'll see plenty of each other." Declan makes a face. "Jesus, that's weird. Maybe I can get transferred to the New York office, it couldn't be that hard to pass another bar exam."

Adam makes a face, too. Running away isn't an option he gets. "I wouldn't blame you."

"Oh, not being blamed for something, that makes a nice change," he says, a touch of wistfulness in his voice that has no business tugging at Adam's heart. It's gone a second later, leaving untouched untouchable Declan back in control. "I should go."

Adam says "yeah," shows him out and shuts the door after him. And maybe he takes a few minutes to shut his eyes and lean up against the door, but, well, he did just get dumped. He's allowed to.

-

It's an endless dragging horrible weekend of waiting before he has work to distract him again. Adam doesn't even know what he's waiting for, at this point. Ronan has no use for either patience or strategy. If he was going to come to Adam he would have done it already.

But how could he have said -- what he said, and _not_ come to Adam? Unless he hadn't meant it, unless it had been one more act of sabotage.

It is very hard to reconcile that idea with the look on Ronan's face.

Adam gets through the week by throwing himself even more deeply into work than usual, and then he's faced with the prospect of another weekend of waiting for someone he already knows isn't going to show. He caves.

Ronan answers the door when Adam knocks, steps out of the way when Adam asks if he can come in. Whatever else is going on with him, he hasn't been avoiding Adam out of fear.

"So was that just a line you were using to fuck up your brother's relationship?" Adam asks. "Because that was my relationship too and I'd be pissed about that."

Ronan breaks off eye contact, stares at a pile of laundry on his couch like it's fascinating. "I wasn't lying."

"Okay. Then I'm pissed that you never said anything."

Ronan stands like a statue, as cold and solid as marble. It isn't right to see Ronan like this. Adam wants to snap him out of it, break the moment open; just when he can't stand it anymore Ronan moves. He falls onto the couch, knocking some of the laundry onto the ground, and sits with his elbows on his thighs, hand clasped together between his knees. He looks like a kid called into the principal's office, except Ronan had never been this dejected about getting in trouble.

"You were always going away," he says. "Even before you left, you were gone," and Adam remembers it in a visceral way that turns his stomach over: How his home poisoned everything that it touched back then, even Gansey, even Ronan. How often he pulled back from them, when even that faint echo of his pain and shame was too much to bear. How every thought was about getting out, until he wasn't really _there_ , and how that had been a relief, to be gone at least in his own mind.

"It felt like a miracle to get you back at all," Ronan says, and Adam can hear that same sharpness in his voice, that he's living through it again too. "Like it'd be selfish to ask for anything else." He sits up so fast that it's jarring. Adam leans away from him, realizes that he had been leaning in toward him. "And then _Declan_ happened, and if he's what you want than what the fuck could I offer you?"

"Honesty," Adam says. Ronan scowls. "The chance to make my own decisions."

"Fine," he snaps. "You got it, I'll leave you both alone from now on."

Adam stops himself from sighing _oh for fuck's sake,_ but just barely. Declan has had a week to tell Ronan about the decision that he took out of Adam's hands, for Ronan's benefit, but clearly that wasn't long enough. If it had been a century he still wouldn't have mentioned it.

"We broke up," Adam says. "Believe it or not, Declan doesn't want to ruin your life."

"He doesn't have to do shit for me. I didn't ask him to ruin your life instead of mine."

"We dated for _a couple of weeks_ and then decided to call things off, that's not life-ruining. That's -- feel sorry for myself and then get over it."

"This is you over it?"

"I'm not upset about Declan breaking up with me. I'm upset with _you,_ because you kept this from me." A wave of sick heat runs over him, like his body is just now figuring out that this is an argument. "You're one of the most important people in my life. You and Gansey were all that I had back then. Moving here and finding out that I still had you, that was a big deal for me, too. Our relationship has meant so much to me, for years, and now I find out that I didn't even know what it was. I feel _stupid._ I feel like an asshole. I hurt you and I didn't even _notice._ And you never gave me a chance to do any better than that."

"It's not like you would have ever said yes to me." Adam doesn't respond. Ronan asks, slowly, "would you?"

"I don't know," Adam says. Ronan sinks back on the couch again. "I _don't_ , I'm angry and I'm off balance and I've been trying to do years' worth of thinking in one week when you weren't even talking to me. I don't know if I want to date you. I don't know if that's fair when you have this massive head start. I don't know if I could ever meet you where you are." He's tensed up by the time he gets through this litany of failures. It takes real effort before he can get out the rest of it. "The only thing I know is that I miss you."

Ronan sits on the couch with a stunned expression on his face for one second, and then he's up and pushing Adam toward the door. "Okay, get the hell out of here."

Adam's head whirls, only partly from the getting shoved across the room. "What?" is the most intelligent response he can manage. If Ronan was too hurt and too pissed off to keep talking to him, that would be one thing, but Ronan doesn't sound hurt or pissed off.

"Go away," Ronan says as he deposits Adam on the other side of the doorway, "so you can stop being mad at me."

"Ronan -- "

"I mean it. I don't want you to say _no_ because you're mad. I don't want you to say _yes_ because you're tired of thinking about it. I don't want you to decide any damn thing like this." 

And then he slams the door shut, and Adam is kicked out of the home of the man who is _in love with him_ , which shouldn't even be _possible._

He's surprised enough that it doesn't really hit him until he's most of the way home. That turns back into anger, familiar after the last week except that now he doesn't keep freezing up when he remembers _oh God, Ronan has been in love with me this whole time, how could I do that to him,_ because the thing he keeps coming back to is _Ronan THREW ME OUT._

That gets him through the weekend. On Monday it occurs to him that this is yet another decision that Ronan made for him, and that anger burns for another day or two. There's a brief lull on Wednesday where he considers the fact that the decision Ronan made for him was to give him enough space to make a decision for himself, but he goes ahead and decides that just makes it even more patronizing and yes, he's still allowed to be mad at Ronan for that. 

But after he cools down from that he admits that the anger is at himself for needing the space at all. That what he feels toward Ronan is a twisted envy that he can make decisions without needing people to give him a dedicated space for it. That he just knows what he wants.

And then Adam is thinking about all the other things he admires about Ronan, and how it's been a week since they talked, and weeks before that since they'd talked for real, and he misses Ronan so much he's dizzy with it.

Ronan had essentially asked Adam to stay away until he'd made a decision, but surely Adam could explain it to him and ask for relief, _I need more time, can't we go back to how things were, just for now, just for a little while --_ Ronan would agree. Why wouldn't he? He's used to being friends while ignoring anything else he wants from Adam. It wouldn't be any different for him than before.

It would be different for Adam now that he knows, but he could get used to it. He'd _have_ to get used to it, if he decides _no, actually, I want you to keep your alarming and inconvenient feelings to yourself while I look for someone else who can fall in love with me on the right schedule._ Things could go back to exactly what Adam had before, and if they do Adam is going to miss Ronan even more than he does right now.

He has to bang on the door for a solid minute before Ronan opens it, bleary like he just woke up. Adam has no idea what time it even is. He ought to apologize. Instead he blurts out, "I want to try."

Ronan goes wide-eyed, immediately alert.

"I don't know if I'll get there," Adam says, desperate and hopeful with a thousand emotions clawing their way out of him at once. "But I want to _try_ ," and this time Ronan does not kick him out.

-

Adam tries to date Ronan.

Really.

Ronan is not very interested in the _date_ part of dating.

"What _do_ you want to do?" Adam asks on Friday night, exasperated. Ronan has rejected any suggestion of going out to dinner, going to a movie, going on a drive (shockingly), and going to a museum (Adam was running out of ideas).

"This," Ronan says. Adam can admit that it's very nice to be lazing on the couch tangled up together, but that doesn't make Ronan _right._

"It isn't really a date, just hanging around," Adam tries again on Saturday, when Ronan shows no aspirations for the day beyond watching him mist his fern plants.

"So?"

"You used to be easier to argue with," Adam says, and loses his train of thought in the face of Ronan's outrage, _I am super fucking easy to argue with._

"We should go somewhere," Adam mutters, halfheartedly, after the third time that he shows up on Ronan's doorstep just to end up hanging around his apartment.

"Fuck _should_ ," Ronan says, and Adam decides that _fuck that_ is exactly what he has the energy for.

So they don't really _date._ They hang out at Ronan's apartment and argue about whether his fridge is actually gross enough to be gestating mutant lifeforms. They hang out at Adam's apartment and Ronan bullies his roommate into turning down his video game and putting on a shirt while Adam trims his bonsai. They hang out at Gansey's apartment and make fun of his newest old man hobby (whittling). They do actually go to the science museum, because there's an exhibit Adam wants to see enough that he's willing to drag Ronan, although no actually dragging turns out to be necessary; when he says he wants to, Ronan shrugs and goes along with it. They walk aimlessly and endlessly around the neighborhood when Ronan is plagued by unsettled energy, or after Adam has a bad day at work. They order a tremendous amount of delivery food.

"It's not really the same as dating, though," he tells Gansey, because Ronan is still being impossible to argue with about this and he needs to worry at _somebody._ "You're supposed to -- do things, as a couple. We just do all the same stuff we did before."

Gansey puts on a very calm and relaxed expression that means he is freaking out. "Are you saying you're not...satisfied," and then Adam has an absolutely terrifying five minutes where tries to force Gansey to un-ask him about his sex life without admitting that that was what happened. This is what he gets for breaking his promise to himself to never ask Gansey for advice again.

"Ronan isn't fond of change," Gansey says, when he's finally gotten the point that Adam was trying to make in the first place and also the second much more important point that as far as their friendship is concerned no one anywhere in the world has ever had sex. "He liked you how you were, and he liked the dynamic that the two of you had. He doesn't want you to behave differently now for the sake of some socially recognizable performance of dating."

Oh, right. That's why Adam asks Gansey for advice.

-

It turns out that Adam really likes doing nothing on Friday nights, that after a week of work, he doesn't want to do anything more strenuous than cuddle. Tonight is no exception; all he's done for the last hour is listen to Ronan mock various people they know, and he can't stop smiling. He can, at most, hide his face against Ronan's chest. Sometimes he doesn't bother to.

He's just thinking he's hungry enough to drag himself to the fridge of horrors when his phone buzzes. He squirms to pull it out of his pocket despite Ronan's grumbled protest. Maybe it'll be Gansey with some plan for dinner. Maybe he can be persuaded to bring over takeout.

The message isn't from Gansey.

_I feel that it would only be fair to try to disrupt one of your dates with Ronan_  
_But if everything you already know about him hasn't scared you off I can't imagine hearing about the time he pissed on a cop car will do the trick_

Adam grins at his phone while he swipes out a reply.

_Disturbingly but not surprisingly, that didn't scare me away_

It's only a moment before Declan responds: _Did I mention there was a cop in the car at the time?_

Adam laughs.

Ronan goes "hm?" too lazy to articulate a question, let alone turn his head the inch it would take to read the screen.

Adam says, "we need to do something about Gansey's gossip problem," without pausing in his typing.

 _You didn't mention that and you know it_  
_I think I'm just stuck with him_

Little dots pop up on the screen and disappear twice, before the response arrives.

_Good luck to both of you, then_  
_Mostly to you_

He sends back _thanks_ quickly and puts his phone away.

"I like that Gansey's a gossipy bitch," Ronan says. "That's half the reason I keep him around."

"Even good behaviors are bad in excess."

Ronan makes a dismissive noise, like he disagrees so profoundly he can't even argue the point.

Adam doesn't bother arguing, either, not when he could be burrowing in closer to Ronan. "I think he has too much free time. We should set him up with someone."

"You know," Ronan says. "Declan's single."

That surprises a harsh bark of laughter out of Adam. He turns his face up. Ronan is pantomiming innocence, or trying to. It would be more convincing without the smirk.

Adam likes that smirk. He likes Ronan's wide-eyed _who, me_ act, and the way that he says things outright that Adam can only tiptoe around. He likes them all so much that for a second he can barely stand to look at him.

Adam still doesn't believe that people fall in love after three dates, that anyone can know that quickly that they want to be with someone.

It's been a month, though, enough dates that he's lost count, and he's starting to wonder.

"Don't even joke about that," he says, and Ronan is still laughing when Adam kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this fic you can [reblog on tumblr](https://toast-the-unknowing.tumblr.com/post/185735310460/what-the-hell-is-the-catch-shinealightonme)!


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